


Nichum Avelim (is an awkward mitzvot when it includes your lover's ex-wife)

by flibbertygigget



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Catholic References, Gen, Good Parent Whizzer Brown, Grief/Mourning, Infant Death, Judaism, M/M, Post-In Trousers, Pre-Canon, Religion, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-23 07:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18148823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: “Shut up, Whizzer,” Marvin says as he picks up the phone. “Hey, this is… Trina, what’s wrong? Are you… Oh, fuck. Fucking Christ. He isn't breathing?” Whizzer feels the bottom drop out of his stomach. This isn’t Marvin being a bitch.When Marvin and Trina's second son dies of SIDS, Whizzer finds himself in the awkward position of offeringnichum avelim.





	Nichum Avelim (is an awkward mitzvot when it includes your lover's ex-wife)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm an awkward raised-Catholic person trying to talk about Jewish funerals. Please tell me if I've written anything horribly offensive. I tried to do research.

Marvin’s in the middle of sucking him off when the phone starts ringing. Marvin pulls away, and Whizzer groans, tugging on Marvin’s hair.

“It might be something important,” Marvin says.

“It’s just your ex-wife,” Whizzer says, which is true. It’s always Marvin’s ex-wife, who seems to be incapable of seeing that his lover’s much better without all her heterosexual dead weight hanging around.

“It might be-”

“Mar- _vin_ ,” Whizzer whines. Marvin sighs.

“Fine. God, you’re a needy prick.” Marvin lets the phone ring out, instead going back to blowing Whizzer. Whizzer’s about three seconds from coming when the phone rings again.

“Fuck! What the hell-” Marvin gets up this time, leaving Whizzer hard and desperate. “Marvin, come on-”

“Shut up, Whizzer,” Marvin says. He picks up the phone, leaving Whizzer to flop back into the mattress despondently. “Hey, this is… Trina, what’s wrong? Are you… Oh, fuck. Fucking Christ.” Whizzer feels the bottom drop out of his stomach. This isn’t Marvin being a bitch. “Trina, have you called an ambulance? Trina, Trina… Alright, then do CPR, dammit! You can’t just… I’m calm! I am calm. You’re the one who’s - Jesus Christ, where’s the ambulance? Trina… Trina…”

“What’s wrong?” Whizzer asks, but Marvin waves him off.

“Alright. I’ll be at the hospital. It’ll be alright. Everything will be alright.” For a moment Whizzer relaxes. “He’s not dead, dammit! I’ll see you at the hospital.” Oh, _fuck._ Marvin slams down the receiver and starts throwing on the first thing he can find. Whizzer hovers uselessly, wanting to know what happened but afraid to ask.

“What’s going on?” he says at last. Marvin barely glances at him.

“Nathan - Trina put him down for a nap, but when she went in to check on him he wasn’t breathing.” Whizzer pulls on the shirt and trousers he was wearing earlier, grimacing a little at how wrinkled they are from lying on the ground. “What are you doing?”

“I’m coming with you, of course,” he says.

* * *

The hospital smells of puke and disinfectant and death. Whizzer stands at Marvin’s shoulder as he talks to the receptionist. Whizzer stands awkwardly outside the door when Marvin goes into the morgue to see his son’s body. Whizzer’s still standing there when an old man comes running down the hallway, his shock of wild white hair looking as though it’s trying to fling the kippah from his head.

“Excuse me, young man,” the guy says. “My name is Rabbi Dan Eisenbach. Do you know where I could find the Ginsbergs? I got a call saying that they had a death in the family.” Whizzer has to tamp down a nervous and completely inappropriate giggle.

“They’re right through there,” he says. Rabbi Eisenbach nods.

“Thank you…”

“Whizzer Brown,” he says, shaking the rabbi’s hand. “I’m a… friend of the family.” _Or at least of the father._ The rabbi looks at him approvingly.

“Well, then, lead the way.” And even though this is an absolutely terrible idea, Whizzer does. Hey, it’s not his fault that rabbis are so damn intimidating.

It’s fucking surreal going through the morgue. All those bags laid in neat rows, as though they weren’t full of dead people. It’s cold as all hell, too, and Whizzer finds himself wishing he brought a coat. Rabbi Eisenbach seems unconcerned with the cold, though, so Whizzer has to suck it up.

And then there they are. Marvin’s gripping the edge of the steel table, face set and eyes determinedly dry. Trina, on the other hand, is sobbing, holding onto her baby’s hand gently like that could make a difference. Jason’s there too, sitting off to the side and looking scared and slightly ill. None of them have noticed Whizzer and the rabbi yet, so Whizzer stops, intending to let Rabbi Eisenbach get on with it.

“I’ll, uh, let you do your thing,” he says when the rabbi looks at him curiously.

“I can take care of the child’s parents if you take care of his sibling,” Rabbi Eisenbach says. Whizzer takes a deep breath. That, he might be able to do. He and Jason used to get along, back before Trina caught him and Marvin in the den.

“Alright,” he says. Still, he waits until the rabbi has started talking to Marvin and Trina to go over to Jason. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Whizzer?” Jason looks like he doesn’t know whether to be glad to see him or not, which is fair. “What’re you doing here?”

“I came with your dad,” Whizzer says. Jason just stares at the floor. “Hey, what do you say we go try to find something to eat? You haven’t had dinner yet, have you?”

“No,” Jason says, but then he glances over at the table that holds Nathan. That holds his brother. _Fuck_. “Will he still be here when we get back?”

“I don’t know,” Whizzer says. “Probably? I’ll, uh, I’ll ask the receptionist, okay?” Jason nods and hops up from his place on the floor. Whizzer wants to just get the heck out of dodge, but he probably shouldn’t steal the kid without telling anyone where they’re going, so he taps Marvin on the shoulder.

“What?” Marvin looks like he’s aged a decade in the last two hours.

“I’m taking Jason to find something to eat,” Whizzer says. Marvin nods, obviously only half listening, but Whizzer doesn’t know what else he should do. Honestly, he’s glad that Trina seems too distracted by the rabbi and her grief to notice him.

He and Jason go down to the shitty hospital cafeteria. Whizzer tries asking what Jason wants, but the kid’s stopped speaking to him, so he grabs two plates of dry-looking chicken, some carrot sticks, and two cups of hot chocolate.

“Here you go, kid,” he says. Jason picks at the chicken and carrots, but he does seem to like the hot chocolate. Whizzer will count that as a win. It’s been almost half an hour of sitting in awkward silence when Jason finally speaks.

“Why’re you here?” he says.

“The rabbi wanted me to take care of you while he took care of your parents.”

“I mean, why are you here at the hospital? We’re not _your_ family.” Whizzer shrugs.

“ _Nichum avelim_?” he suggests. Jason gives him an unconvinced look.

“Are you even Jewish?”

“Um, sort of? My dad is. My mom, on the other hand, is a full-blooded Irish Catholic. And, honestly, all that really means is that I had my Bar Mitzvah and my Confirmation during the same year, which was absolute hell.” Whizzer knows that he’s babbling a little, but hey, Jason seems interested and _alive_ for the first time tonight.

“Mom’s been telling the ladies at the temple that Dad left her for some shiksa bitch.” Whizzer forces a laugh.

“Never been called that before. I like it.”

“Mom’s gonna freak out when she figures out you’re here.” Whizzer grimaces.

“Yeah, probably.” Normally, he’d be pissed about that. Normally, he’d be all self-righteous about how he’s not a homewrecker when there wasn’t a home to wreck in the first place. Normal… doesn’t really apply when your lover’s baby son has just died unexpectedly. “I hope she doesn’t do it in front of that rabbi, though. I think he likes me.”

“Ew!”

“Not like that! Jesus, kid, you’re more obsessed with where I put my dick than Marvin is.” There’s a middle-aged woman a table over glaring at him, which reminds Whizzer that, oh, right, talking about all the gay sex you’re having with your lover’s kid isn’t socially acceptable. Like, at all. “Anyways, we should be getting back. Don’t want your parents worrying about you.”

“Can I have another hot chocolate?” Whizzer probably shouldn’t be giving the kid even more sugar, but he can’t really say no. You know, under the circumstances. Especially since the morgue is cold as hell.

* * *

Rabbi Eisenbach is waiting outside the morgue. For a moment, Whizzer wonders if the whole queer thing somehow came out, if the rabbi’s here to tell him that he should leave and never return, but the rabbi doesn’t look angry or disgusted. He just looks stressed and sorrowful, which is probably normal under these circumstances. Still, Whizzer can’t tamp down the anxiety as he tells Jason to go ahead and turns to the older man.

“What’s up, Doc?” he says. Rabbi Eisenbach gives him a tired half-smile.

“We’ve finished most of the arrangements,” he says. “Trina’s calling the people they want at the funeral. It’ll be tomorrow afternoon.”

“That fast?” Rabbi Eisenbach looks at him curiously. “Sorry, I’m not - I’ve only ever been to one funeral before, and that was for my mom’s great-aunt. She was the nastiest old nun on earth.”

“You’re a Gentile?”

“Depends on the day,” Whizzer says. “By which I mean, sort of, it’s complicated, just call me inexperienced.”

“Fair enough,” the rabbi says.

“That won’t be an issue, will it?” Whizzer says. “I mean, for the, uh, funeral?” Although, honestly, he doesn’t know whether Trina will want him there. Whatever. He can figure that out later.

“Of course not,” Rabbi Eisenbach says. “There may be a few things I need to brief you on, but it shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Great,” Whizzer says. For a moment they just stand there. Rabbi Eisenbach seems to be under the impression that it’s a comfortable silence. Whizzer just feels like he’s under a microscope. “Look, Rabbi, I have a confession to make,” he blurts out. Rabbi Eisenbach looks at him curiously, and Whizzer puts up a hand. “Wrong religion, I know. My goy’s showing. But I, uh, I may have been exaggerating the whole friend of the family thing.”

“How so?”

“Uh, well, Trina and I are… not on the best of terms.” Understatement of the year right there, but he can’t exactly say that he stole her man. “Marvin and I are close, and Jason seems okay with me to a point, but I, uh, I don’t want to cause a stink or - or offend anyone. So. Yeah.” The rabbi doesn’t say anything, just looks at him like he’s waiting for something. “And I want to be there for them all, Jason especially, but… yeah. I don’t know how feasible that’s gonna be.”

“The world is complicated,” Rabbi Eisenbach says. Whizzer snorts. The old man has no idea. “The only thing you can do is perform _nichum avelim_ to the best of your ability. Are you prepared?”

“I mean, I guess,” Whizzer says. The rabbi nods.

“Then go. They need you now.”

* * *

Technically, Whizzer should be in the main part of the funeral home with the rest of the attendees. The problem, of course, is that there’s only so many times he can say the words “friend of the family” before it starts to sound like a lame excuse. Besides, both Marvin’s and Trina’s parents are here, and Whizzer has absolutely no idea how much they know about the way the whole divorce thing went down.

So that’s why he’s here, skulking outside the room where the _avelim_ are preparing for their roles. He can faintly hear Rabbi Eisenbach speaking in Hebrew - “ _Adonai natan, Adonai lakach, yehi shem Adonai m'vorach_.” Then the rabbi opens the door, looking over at Whizzer with a faint sort of amusement.

“Didn’t I tell you that you couldn’t see them before the funeral?” he asks.

“I’ve never been good at following instructions,” Whizzer says, running a hand through his hair. “Are they doing alright?” The rabbi sighs.

“As well as can be expected,” he says. “Go. You should find a place to sit.”

The funeral is over almost too quickly. Marvin, Trina, and Jason walk down the aisle, black ribbons pinned to their breasts. There’s something in Hebrew that Whizzer doesn’t recognize - “ _Yahwai oz-lamoh umaoz y’shot m’shiyho hu_ ” - and then a eulogy and then another prayer in Hebrew. This one he has to stand for, mouthing along with words that he hasn’t even thought of hearing since he was preparing for his Bar Mitzvah. After that they’re off, filing out into the Jewish cemetery behind the grandparents who are serving as pallbearers.

And then it’s it. They lower the tiny coffin into the ground, throw handfuls of dirt into the grave, and say another prayer when it’s been covered. This one Whizzer actually vaguely recognizes from the times his father used to take him to temple.

_Yehe shelama rabba min shemayya_   
_Vehayyim tovim_   
_Vesava vishu’a venehama veshezava_   
_Urfu’a ug’ulla usliha v’khappara_   
_Verevah vehatzala_   
_Lanu ulkhol ‘ammo yisrael v’imru amen_   
_‘Oseh shalom bimromav_   
_Hu berakhamav yaʻase shalom ʻalenu_   
_V'al kol ammo yisrael, v'imru amen_   
_._

For the first time in his life, Whizzer wishes that he’d actually paid attention in Hebrew school. He wishes that he actually understood what he was saying, instead of just muttering nonsense.

* * *

It’s crowded afterwards in the house that Marvin and Trina used to share. It seems like every bubbe in New York City has decided it’s her duty to bring Trina enough food to feed twenty families for a week. Whizzer doesn’t even want to know what his and Marvin’s apartment is going to look like after _Shiva_ , since Marvin can’t cook and Whizzer would feel guilty swiping the borscht and pierogi that are rapidly filling Trina’s fridge.

He finally extracts himself from yet another bubbe who wants a “tall, strong young man to help put this gefilte fish away” and makes his way into the living room. He has only the vaguest idea of what he’s doing - he should be comforting Marvin, comforting Jason - but unfortunately the first of the _avelim_ he sees is the only person he has no chance of helping.

“ _You_ ,” Trina says. Whizzer puts his hands in his pockets and tries not to look nervous.

“Yep, me,” he says. “I’m, uh, I’m so sorry for your loss.” Trina is trying to glare at him, but she looks so exhausted that she can’t muster even that. “Hey, are you doing okay? Have you even slept?”

“I’m fine.”

“I can cover for you if you want to go take a nap.”

“What are you doing here?” she says. “Haven’t you ruined my family enough?”

“Trina…” This isn’t the time to rehash their old argument, the one where she blame him and he tells him that her ex-husband can make his own decisions, thank you very much. “I’m just here for Marvin. And Jason, if he wants. I mean, I’m just here to do what I can.”

“Not your usual venue, is it?”

“Oh, God no,” Whizzer says, and then he looks around nervously. Trina looks amused. “Hey, don’t laugh at me. I’ve got Catholic guilt _and_ Orthodox guilt going on.”

“As though you’ve ever felt guilt about anything.”

“You’re right. I’m just worried that the bubbes will turn on me.” There’s an awkward pause that neither of them seem to quite know how to break. “Look, I’ll get out of your hair. I know I’m probably the last person you wanted to see today. I was just looking for Marvin or Jason.”

“I don’t know where Marvin’s gone off to,” Trina says, her expression souring when she says her ex-husband’s name. Which is fair. “I think Jason’s locked himself in his room. Could you…” She hesitates. “Could you check on him? He hasn’t spoken to me since - since last night, not once, and I don’t know if he’s depressed or angry at me or-”

“Of course I will.” She nods and heads off somewhere, probably just trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible. Whizzer heads up the stairs to Jason’s room. Just like Trina had said, it’s locked. Whizzer knocks on the door, and instantly there’s the sound of something heavy being thrown at it.

“Uh, Jason? Kiddo?” Another thing’s thrown. “Kid, it’s Whizzer.” Somehow that works, or at least the door opens a crack.

“Whudda you want?” Jason says.

“Just checking up on you,” Whizzer says. “Trina was worried. I can leave if you want.” The door opens further. Jason’s room is a mess, posters torn down and books thrown all over the place. Jason doesn’t look much better.

“You can come in, I guess,” Jason says. Whizzer does, picking his way through the rubble until he’s able to sit on Jason’s bed. Jason, on the other hand, starts picking up things at random and throwing them at the walls.

“Using all those healthy coping mechanisms, I see,” Whizzer says. Jason glares at him.

“If I wanted a psychiatrist, I’d go back downstairs,” he says.

“Oh, man, did Mendel corner you? He’s been trying to get Marvin to send me to him for ages.”

“Mom’s probably going to send me to someone,” Jason says. “I think it’s dumb.”

“Dumber than destroying all your shit?” Jason rolls his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Are you going to stop giving Trina the cold shoulder?”

“No.”

“She thinks you’re angry at her.”

“I’m not angry at her. I’m just-” Jason gives a scream of frustration and kicks the wall. “Things _suck_.” Whizzer can’t really argue with that.

“Yeah, they do.”

“They don’t even know why it happens. Sometimes babies just die, and none of the doctors can do their jobs and figure out _why_.”

“I know.” Whizzer’s never felt so lost for words, so helpless. He’s supposed to be good at this. “I wish they knew how it happens.”

“Me too.” Jason flops down in the center of the room, looking over at Whizzer through red-rimmed eyes. “Are you and Dad gonna stay here for _Shiva_?” Whizzer laughs.

“I don’t think Trina could hold off on murdering me for a whole week.”

“Yeah,” Jason says. He bites his bottom lip hard enough to almost break the skin. “Whizzer, do you believe in God?” Whizzer hesitates, but he has to tell the kid the truth.

“Jason, I’m gay. I wouldn’t care about God even if I did believe in him.”

“Oh,” Jason says. He seems to think for a minute. “Nathan means ‘God has given.’ That’s what Mom said when she had him.”

“ _Dominus dedit, Dominus abstulit; sicut Domino placuit, ita factum est. Sit nomen Domini benedictum._ ” Jason looks at him weirdly. “My mom made me memorize some of the Latin Bible. It stuck a little better than the Hebrew, I guess.”

“ _Adonai natan, Adonai lakach…_ ” Jason mutters. Whizzer grins.

“See, you’re already better than me.” There’s a knock on the door that makes both of them jump.

“Whizzer?” It’s Marvin’s voice. “Whizzer, are you in here?” Jason scowls and throws a book at the door.

“Go away!” he yells.

“Jason, I’m just trying to find Whizzer. We have to leave soon.” Jason glares at Whizzer as though daring him to go with Marvin, which is just hilarious.

“Five minutes,” Whizzer mouths at the kid. Jason’s glare doesn’t soften, but he does nod.

“You’ll probably find him in five minutes,” Jason yells at the door.

“What the hell does that mean?” Marvin says.

“It means that I’m doing my _nichum avelim_ , so fuck off,” Whizzer says. Jason cracks a smile and holds his hand out for a fistbump. Whizzer complies with a grin.

Yeah. Everything will be alright.


End file.
